⤜♡→ ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔅𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡
"You're doing it wrong," I say quietly. He turns to me and I immediately regret saying that. Nice going, now he's going to think you're an asshole.
"Sorry, it's just that you should sanitize the wound first," I walk over taking his hand gently and pulling away the gauze. It comes back sticky with blood the edges turning a darker brown. I drag his hand into the sink and wash it. My thumb moves in a circular motion over his knuckles as I wash the red down the sink.
"Do you have any rubbing alcohol?" I ask. This feels intrusive to be holding his hand and washing it, while he's wearing boxers and a T-shirt and I'm in clothes that could be his. After I just woke up. In his bed.
"The left drawer," He says motioning with a bob of his head. I kneel on the ground and open the door. I attempt to ignore the other bottles in the cupboard one with a promiscuous label and lube written on it.
"Guess he has a girlfriend," I think. An odd feeling twinges in my gut but I push it away, you can't be jealous of someone you only just meet. I grab the cotton balls standing up again and opening the bottle. Pouring the solution on the cotton ball I take his hand again gently dabbing at the wound. He doesn't wince but I see his jaw tighten and he looks away.
"Sorry, If it hurts," I murmur. I return my gaze to his hand swabbing over the still bleeding hand. His other hand doesn't look as bad, I guess he's right-handed. I place the gauze over his hand then wrap it with the bandage tucking the ends so it won't unravel.
"There you go," I step back my eyes immediately going to the checkered floor. He flexes his hand and then nods.
"Thank you, Sweetheart" He responds. I still can't get over how soft his voice is for someone so rough. The name "sweetheart" takes me by surprise and I try not to let the endearment flush my cheeks.
'You're welcome" I reply. Looking up I find him staring at me. He grins easily and I smile back. This whole situation is surreal. It feels like a dream but I'm still grounded. "This isn't a dream right?" I think then pinch my arm to make sure.
'Oh, by the way, those are my ex-girlfriend's clothes. You don't need to worry they're not mine or Bucky's and I didn't see anything," He says a reassuring smile on his face. "Your undershirt and shorts were on the entire time." I nod. "So Bucky... his boyfriend or roommate? And I guess the other bottle could have been from his ex-girlfriend..." I snap out of it when he turns to the mirror noticing a gash across his cheekbone. Without thinking, maybe it was my nurse instinct, my hand is on his cheek brushing over the cut.
"Do you have any other bandages?" I ask then realize and pull my hand back. He opens the cupboard and hands me the Band-Aids. I find a larger patch and unpeel it, pressing it to his wound. We're so close I can hear his breathing, feel the soft rise and fall of his chest and the exhale of his breath, and smell his cologne... "Pull yourself together," I whisper to myself.
I jump away as soon as I finish putting the bandage on. I feel slightly embarrassed from the way I immediately leapt away. Like he's too hot to touch. In some ways... he is. I shun myself immediately after thinking that. Biting my cheek to stop my face from turning pink.
"I'm sure you're hungry," He says standing up. My eyes shift to him and then down his body.
"A little," I respond not wanting to seem like a burden. But it would be better to eat than faint from lack of food and end up in his bed again. Not that'd it be a bad thing that little voice whispers again as I follow him down the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Sit down," He says motioning to the stools at the island. I do immediately the way he says it just makes me want to obey. I swing my legs a nervous subconscious habit as I glance around the room. It looks run down, not that I should judge, with wooden cabinets and granite countertops.
'I realize I never introduce myself," He says and my gaze snaps toward him. "I'm Steve Rogers," He smiles and then extends his hand. I introduce myself shaking his hand trying not to linger on his warm touch. "Beautiful name, It suits you," He says his eyes raking down my body. He turns, opens one of the cupboards, and takes out cereal. He- Steve, pours the cereal and adds milk then pushes it across the countertop to me. I hesitate for a moment, my hand holding the handle to the spoon but not picking it up.
"It's not poisoned," He says his tone playful. To prove his point he takes another spoon from the drawer and dips it into the cereal and takes a mouthful. "See," He says.
"Maybe you have the antidote and you're just going to take it once I leave," I counter. He grins easily.
"Guess you'll just have to trust me,"
I take a spoonful of the cereal anyway and swallow.
"Good girl," I hear him murmur. For someone reason, it doesn't bother me. It seems to scratch some itch I didn't know existed. But if it had been any other man it would have irked me. But for someone reason this one's different. "Or it's just my concussion that's making me cuckoo," a reasonable voice counters. I lean into that one and try to shake the dizzying feeling.
Steve leaves the room and I feel a sense of unease at his absence. Jesus Christ, I just met the man I can't be a head over heels already. The name Steve Rogers... rang some sort of bell in the back of my head. I couldn't quite place it though. I shrugged it off labeling it under my possible concussion.
I can hear footsteps outside the apartment and the door knob is turning. For some reason, everything feels delayed. My response to the footsteps, it feels as though in slow motion I'm getting up.
The door opens and a man in suit is in the doorway. It's a dark black complementing the blue of his eyes. He looks the same size as Steve and as I watch this out-of-body experience he's coming toward me. His expression changed from tired to him yelling.
"Who the hell are you?" He yells at me. There's a knife in his hand and before I can scream his hand is around my throat. Tears are springing to my eyes as the wall connects with my back and my head is thrown once again into the wall. Tears are already sliding down my cheeks as I scream again. High pitched and shrill as the knife gets dangerously close to my throat. My vision is fading again black threatening to overtake my body. I can't breathe everything feels too tight.
"Please help," I cry weakly. Steve please goddammit, please Steve. Steve. And he's there in an instant his mouth is yelling something my ears can't hear. My throat is finally freed from the clamp and I feel myself sucking in breaths as my body slides down the wall colliding with the floor. Steve is there at my side. Looking back on this it's a hilarious coincidence this has happened twice in less than 24 hours. His hand is under my chin telling me to look at him.
"Look at me Sweetheart, That's it, you're going to be alright." He turns yelling something at... Bucky? I think that's what he says my mind is too addled to make sense of anything.
"What the hell Bucky? The first thing you do when you see a person in our apartment you choke them against a wall?"
"Well, how was I supposed to know she was with you?" The brunette responds.
"Use your brain and ask me first!"
"Well, maybe she could have killed you!"
Silence fills the room and at the sudden quiet, all the pain comes rushing back. More tears are slipping from my cheeks onto the floor. Steve turns back to me gently wiping away the drops. "You're going to be okay Sweetheart, We'll take you to the hospital," He turns my face away from him inspecting the bruises on my neck already starting to form.
"Get me some ice James," Steve says, not even sparing the brunette a glance.
♥ Word Count: 1451
♥ Date Written: 5/15/2023
𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 ~ 𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊 ♫♬♥
